VIscount Besieged (26 page)

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Authors: Elizabeth Bailey

Tags: #regency romance, #clean romance, #sweet romance, #traditional romance, #comedy of manners, #country house regency

BOOK: VIscount Besieged
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She foresaw a
trying time ahead. Could any of them ever feel at home here? They
had no other home, once the house was sold. She dared swear the
family would all become homesick, and undoubtedly turn their
frustrations upon her again.

For it had not
been long before the real reason for Roborough’s inviting them to
Barton Stacey had leaked out. Fanny again, of course. She had—very
conveniently—overheard the viscount telling Thornbury about the
housekeeper act, and saying that he was packing Isadora off to
Barton Stacey where she could do no further harm.


I
knew you were up to something, Dora,’ Fanny had stated smugly as
she had repeated the gist of the overheard conversation to her
elders.

Isadora had been
obliged to endure the family’s loud expressions of annoyance at
having to share in her disgrace, and had found herself unexpectedly
in debt to Roborough. For no sooner had he understood she had been
found out than he had made haste to pour oil on the troubled
waters.


You
must not blame Isadora,’ he had said to the room at large when
Fanny’s indiscreet tongue had let the matter out, ‘for it would
have come to this in any event. Perhaps we should rather all be
grateful that Isadora’s little masquerade has precipitated the
inevitable.’

Isadora had been
grateful for that small mercy—for naturally, she had cynically
noted, everyone obeyed Roborough’s instruction—and for the sudden
activity provoked by the necessary sorting and packing, which had
left none of them time to think, and generated a universal current
of excitement for more than a week.

The only jarring
note had been introduced by Harriet, who wept to think that Isadora
would not be at her imminent wedding.


But
I shall console myself with the thought that I must soon receive an
invitation to yours, my dearest Dora,’ she said
brokenly.


Harriet, will you never give up?’


But
you told me Roborough had been so kind to you, Dora. He must have
forgiven you.’


Forgiven me? And what of my forgiveness, or is that of no
importance? Anyone would suppose that I was the
gambler.’

Harriet pleaded
that she had rather been forgetting that aspect of the matter.
But, despite her protestations, in secret Isadora caught herself
wondering if she might not overlook the viscount’s iniquities,
should he show any disposition to wish to marry her. Shocked at her
own thoughts, she banished them hastily, trying to recall her
dislike of him and doing her best to rekindle her determination to
become an actress.

Oddly, this
ambition seemed to have lost its lustre as a prospective future.
This, she also set down to Roborough’s account. Had it not been he
who had ruthlessly opened her eyes to facts about that profession
which she had never even troubled herself to
contemplate?

She would not
allow herself to soften towards him. Fortunately the preparations
had occupied so much of her time that she saw very little of the
man—a fact of which she tried to persuade herself she was very glad
indeed.

But now, she
pondered, coming back to a present which promised little in the way
of distractions, she could not imagine how she was going to occupy
her time, or indeed how they were any of them to go on in such a
household, presided over by the extraordinary Lady
Roborough.

Glancing across
at her, enthroned in an easy chair, a footstool supporting her
weary legs, Isadora was seized by an idiotic desire to
giggle.

Her ladyship
appeared exhausted, which, together with the deep shadows about her
eyes and cheeks, lent credence to her assertion that she slept but
fitfully at night, and she exuded such an air of gloom and
despondency as affected all who came into contact with her—her son
in particular. Isadora had never seen him so little at his usual
friendly ease. She was conscious of feeling almost sorry for
him.

The two Misses
Stratton were plainly equally uncomfortable in their mama’s
presence. Bettina, at fifteen already displaying the accepted
decorum of a debutante, and Corinne, a year younger and quite as
politely behaved if a little more fidgety, both bade fair to rival
their brother’s attractions. The chestnut hair had in them a
brighter sheen, and both displayed the friendly warmth of the
viscount in their smiles.

They plainly
held their brother in great affection, casting him unmistakable
looks of admiration now and then, and laughing immoderately at his
sallies—until called to order by a governess who looked to be
strictness itself.

Or perhaps,
thought Isadora, noting how that female glanced apprehensively at
her mistress each time the girls burst out, that was a mask for
Lady Roborough’s benefit. It certainly did not appear as if the
daughters of the house feared their preceptress.


Oh,
Cally,’ cried out Corinne suddenly, and then swiftly added as the
governess frowned her down, ‘Oh, drat. I mean,
Miss
Callowell,
how shall you bear it having another pupil quartered
on you—?’


Oh
no, no,’ broke in Cousin Matty. ‘I should not dream of
imposing—’


But
Fanny must join us,’ Bettina interjected. She turned eagerly to her
brother. ‘Must she not, Titus?’


Oh,
Cousin Roborough, I pray you will not trouble
Miss—Miss—’


It
will be no trouble, Mrs Dotterell,’ put in the governess in a
kindly tone, leaning forward to smile at Fanny. ‘That is, if Miss
Dotterell—Fanny—will care to partake of her cousins’
lessons.’

There could be
no doubt of this. Fanny began to look more cheerful.

Miss Callowell,
evidently noting Rowland’s apprehensive face, smiled at him.
‘There is no occasion for you to look glum, young man. I am sure
his lordship has quite other plans for you.’

Roborough
grinned. ‘School, I’m afraid.’


I
knew it,’ muttered Rowland in a disgusted under voice, only to
receive a dig in the ribs from his sister beside him.


Never mind, Rowland,’ laughed the viscount. ‘I survived it.’
He looked at Cousin Matty. ‘I have already requested my agent
Dalbury to make the necessary arrangements.’


There now, Matty,’ fluttered Mrs Alvescot, ‘I knew we might be
comfortable at the last.’

Overcome, Cousin
Matty quite lost herself in a morass of half-sentences, from which
it emerged that she would do all in her power to repay such
kindness.


Nonsense,’ said the viscount dismissively. ‘There will be time
enough for thanks when we have settled everyone to our mutual
satisfaction.’

His glance
encompassed Isadora as he spoke and, not much to his surprise, he
encountered a suspicious glare. What underhand schemes did she
suppose him to be hatching this time? She had borne little part so
far in this meeting. He rather suspected that her mind had been
largely otherwhere.

Isadora’s mind
snapped to attention a moment later, for Lady Roborough suddenly
entered the lists.


I am
glad,’ she said, in anything but satisfied accents, ‘that you have
settled one matter at least, Stratton.’


Roborough,’ corrected Bettina automatically, in a guarded
whisper.


Never mind it, Bettina,’ intervened the viscount. He added
briefly to his mother, ‘You will become accustomed in time,
ma’am.’


No
one can tell me about becoming accustomed,’ said her ladyship,
roused to plaintive protest. ‘My whole life has been dedicated to
accustoming myself to circumstances over which I have no
control.’


Yes,
very well, ma’am,’ said her son repressively. ‘But we were talking
of the needs of our guests.’

Casting him only
a reproachful glance, his mother eyed the now silent company. Her
wandering gaze found Isadora and halted.


Ah,
poor child. What shall we do for you?’


Me,
ma’am?’ said Isadora, startled.

A lugubrious
sigh left Lady Roborough’s lips.


Stratton tells me you are twenty already. Twenty, and not even
out.’

Surprisingly, it
was Mrs Alvescot, bristling in defence of her young, who took up
this point.


It
was not Dora’s fault, ma’am. My poor dear husband was so ill, and
though Lady Witheridge offered to bring her out, Dora would not
think of leaving her papa.’


Of
course not, Mama,’ agreed Isadora bracingly. ‘I beg you will not
distress yourself. I have no regrets, Lady Roborough, I assure
you.’


But
unwed,’ mourned her ladyship. ‘At twenty.’


Yes,
yes, ma’am,’ put in the viscount hastily. ‘You may believe,
however, that Isadora has not yet felt the want of a
husband.’


I
can speak for myself, I thank you, Roborough.’

At that, the
entire family—with the exception of Rowland, still brooding darkly
over his immediate future—broke brightly into speech.


Oh,
Lady Roborough, what a fine house you have!’


Oh
dear, I don’t think I have caught quite all the names. Bettina, was
it, and—?’


I do
hope I may be able to keep up with Corinne and Bettina, Miss
Callowell.’

The significance
of these interventions was not lost on Isadora and, casting the
viscount a look that promised vengeance presently, she settled
back again in her seat, firmly closing her mouth.

Seeing it, the
family breathed a collective sigh of relief and subsided.
Roborough, amused, took the lead again, addressing his
mother.


What
you do not know of Isadora, ma’am, is that she is a remarkably fine
actress.’

This brought
Isadora instantly under the scrutiny of all eyes again. But she
noticed it only peripherally, for her attention was on the
viscount. Now what was he at? The glance he threw her was full of
teasing warmth and she felt her resentment melting away, quite
against her will.


You
did not appear to think so when I did Lady Teazle,’ she said,
forgetting the company.


On
the contrary.’


Oh,
now, he did like your Lady Teazle, Dora,’ put in Cousin Matty
pacifically. ‘I can vouch for that.’

But Isadora,
recalling how Roborough had outwitted her, determined to have her
revenge. Turning to his mother, she spoke in her sweetest
tones.


It
is so kind in you to invite us, ma’am, but you cannot wish to have
us all quartered on you forever. Do you not wonder what his
lordship intends to do about us?’


There is time enough to be thinking of that,’ the viscount
intervened before his mother could respond. ‘We are all of us still
in mourning, and nothing can be finally decided until that period
is over.’

Isadora,
glancing ruefully about the room, began to wish it were well over.
It had been bad enough at Pusay. How were any of them to be
anything but miserable decked out like so many crows? She was
relieved when it seemed that Roborough had had enough of this
gathering.


Bettina,’ he said, looking over at his sister, ‘why do not you
and Corinne take Fanny and Rowland on a tour of the grounds? I am
sure Miss Callowell will not object.’

The governess
was far from objecting to what amounted to an order from the master
of the house. The youngsters were obviously only too delighted to
be free of the restraining atmosphere, jumping up eagerly. Cousin
Matty, deferring to Miss Callowell’s judgement, asked if she might
be of the party. A gracious consent being forthcoming, she too
rose.

Lady Roborough,
much to Isadora’s astonishment, offered to show Mrs Alvescot to a
sitting-room which she might regard as peculiarly her own, and
actually dragged herself to her feet. The effort this cost her was
evident, and she was glad to lean on Mrs Alvescot’s proffered arm,
on which she floated out behind the rest, leaving Isadora alone
with the viscount.

There was
silence for a moment as the chattering in the corridors died away.
Isadora, unable to help herself, looked up to encounter Roborough’s
eyes on her.


Perhaps you would also like to see the grounds, Isadora?’ he
asked in a tone of unmatched politeness.


Thank you,’ Isadora said sweetly, ‘but you need not concern
yourself over me. You must have business on hand—you always do—and
I am content to be left to my own devices.’


Yes,
but it seems to me that you are at your most dangerous when you are
left to your own devices,’ Roborough complained.

Isadora rose
swiftly to her feet to face him. ‘What are you going to do, then,
put me under lock and key?’


I
wish I might.’

She emitted an
infuriated sound. ‘You are a hateful man. What do you suppose I can
do from here to stop you selling the house?’


I
don’t know,’ he admitted, ‘but I feel sure you will think of
something.’


I
shall think of murdering you, that much is certain! I wish very
much that I had taken on the character of Lady Macbeth instead of
Lady Teazle. You would see then how dangerous I could be—if I were
as horrid as you seem to think.’

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